


Dolly Folly

by SeptuVariest



Category: Princess Principal (Anime)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Dolls, F/F, Pining, angsty fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-23 23:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13799004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeptuVariest/pseuds/SeptuVariest
Summary: The Turtledoves find themselves getting lonely, and make an especially cuddly solution.





	Dolly Folly

**Author's Note:**

> You know those Pripri plushies?  
> Yeah.

For the newly christened 'Ange', she finds herself alone and desperate at The Farm. Her only connection to Charlotte is through the newspapers she religiously scans through every day for any sign of her. In her weaker moments, when the Princess doesn't show up for weeks, she is sure some disaster has befallen her. She is sure that the Kingdom, now impossibly far away with the newly erected wall, has discovered her secret and made her disappear. She can't take the stress, and the guilt, of knowing the kind of world she's forced into her best - her only - friend's hands. She had almost been driven to her wit's end by the expectations they had for her, and for a simple street urchin to find herself in that position, it would be--

No. Ange forces herself to think of something else. To think of that poor starving child finally being well fed, and clean, and safe. Those are the only thoughts that give her pause, in between the rigorous drills of her spy training. In between her feverous plotting. The Changeling Operation. Casablanca. Escape.

One day, books are distributed between the spies-in-training in her dorm. They all take them without a word, already subdued. Ange is eventually handed her own, and she dares not to look at it until told, choosing to sit stock still on her bed and keep her eyes locked on her instructor. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Dorothy, who is already flipping through her book idly, as expected.

"Your training will only become harder, from now on." As their teacher paced up and down the dorm, making sure each girl had a book of their own, her voice became unusually soft. Unlike her typical pitch, which Ange had become to hear as a single, screeching tone. "I suggest you each take a hobby. Something creative, but repetitive, to dull your minds. To calm yourself."

When she stopped talking, each girl managed to break their teacher's gaze and look down at the books they'd been handed. Ange, who had been reading - or moreover studying - the daily newspaper up until now, now held a thick volume, bound in a crochet of cotton. Knitting; From Beginner to Master. It read. Opening it up to the contents, unlike many of her classmates, who had all opened their books to a random page, Ange filtered through the well-organised list. The Perfect Start: Scarves. Miss. Quilts: A Challenge for Beginners. Miss. Miss. Miss. Miss-- Dolls: A Step-By Step Guide to Friendship.

By her side still sat the daily newspaper, opened to a page of Princess Charlotte. Her glowing face reaching out to the crowd in front of her. Apparently, it was the Queen's Birthday. Ange thought she ought to remember her grandmother’s own birthday, but that wasn't what mattered anymore. Charlotte was what mattered. Charlotte. Charlotte. Her friend.

She made the connection quickly. In the early days, when she was still on the streets, she could look into a mirror and feel Ange, or Charlotte, by her side. But now, long into her training at The Farm, her hair has already been cut to her ears, and has begun the transition to a dull silver; it was her decision to take the pills, but she still felt herself drifting from Charlotte every time she saw her hair had grown a shade darker. She needed something to remind her what Charlotte looked like. Something to keep her morale high. Something to keep her grounded, lest she go insane, as far too many of her fellow trainees already had.

It was a small, pitiful display. Despite her failings, Ange took pleasure in not being perfect when it came to knitting. She'd made the hair separately, taking a special care to craft her 'tufts', and then sewed it onto the head once she was satisfied. It wore a cute, blank smile, a miniature scarf, and her favourite set of clothes. It was creative, definitely, even if not technically impressive. Embarrassed that someone might find it, the 'Charlotte' Doll slipped under her covers as soon as it was finished, and only came out when she was alone.

Ange had been right. It was exactly what she'd needed. On cold, teary nights, the warmth and texture of 'Charlotte' managed to bring a smile to her face. She felt her desire to check the newspapers as soon as she got her hands on it waning. She felt as if she could finally protect Charlotte with her own two hands, even if it was just a woollen parody. She felt safe, for once.

That was why, when Charlotte's arm fell off during a particularly intense cuddle, Ange didn't stop crying for hours. Sobbing under her covers as she cradled the fractured Princess in her hands, she tried to tell herself that she could fix it. She tried, but in her grief, she only cut her fingers on the needle. Unable to stop herself shaking as she watched Charlotte continue to smile, unfazed, she found her desperation grow again. She had to know that Charlotte-- no, that Ange, was safe.

Eventually, it was Dorothy, the only girl brave enough to even talk to Ange, who came to her rescue. She too, had been studying knitting and sewing, so when she was woken in the middle of the night to find a sobbing lizard pouring over newspapers next to a doll she'd never seen before, she was more than happy to help out. First, though, Dorothy would have to pry the doll out of Ange's hands. She reassured her she only wanted to help, but with every inch she pulled, Ange's fingers grew tighter and her face grew sourer as she watched the doll strain.

"Okay, okay, Ange, I'll let go!" Dorothy dropped it, and Ange crawled back across the room, retreating into the darkness. With a pitiful look, Dorothy felt herself come to understand Ange a bit more - or, perhaps she'd only gotten more complicated. "I really can fix it for you, if you'd like." She repeated herself, picking up the fluffy limb Ange had left behind. "You did a good job with this, you know." Her lips thinned into a smile. "You really do like to show off, don't you?"

A peep came from inside the shadows. "...You won't ask any questions?" Punctuated with a fresh sob, Ange began to return to the light, scuffling over already torn pages as she warmed up to Dorothy.

"You'd probably just lie anyway, Black Lizard." Holding out her hand, Dorothy was surprised when Ange finally dropped the doll into it. "It won't be a moment, I promise." Ange looked even more fragile, now, separated from the nondescript plush. "She'll be fine."

Dorothy hadn't lied. Demonstrating a finesse that only a spy was capable of, she stitched 'Charlotte's' arm back on, and then handed it back to Ange. She wanted to ask who the doll was, but reminded herself of the promise she'd made. "Good as new, don't you think?" Ange seemed to agree, as she clutched the thing tight in her arms, not saying a word. The tension diffused, and Dorothy managed a laugh. "I promise I won't tell anyone that our ace is a little crybaby."

"...Not a crybaby..." Ange sniffled back.

"Sure, sure." Dorothy stood and returned to her bed, starting to wonder if this had all been a dream.

Ange had learnt her lesson, now. She wouldn't make the same mistake. She would never hurt Charlotte again. And she didn't. The doll survived the entirety of Ange's four years of training, survived in the countless empty apartments she'd camped out in during her early operations, and survived the trip across the wall, snuggled away safely in her suitcase. Even if Ange was about to return to Charlotte's side, she couldn't part with the doll. It's slightly crooked, re-stitched smile and huggable arms were full of the promise Ange had made to save the girl she'd been modelled after.

When Dorothy reunited with Ange, she couldn't help but smile when she saw that 'Charlotte' had made it this far, as well.

Charlotte, on the other hand, had been trying to forget. She didn't want anything reminding her of the girl that disappeared all those years ago. The girl she might have killed with her selfishness. When that girl returned, though, all those doubts were destroyed. It took time, but she felt herself healing.

When Ange left on missions, though, Charlotte's heart ached. She didn't want to lose her again. In the early days, she stayed in bed and tried to sleep, accompanied by the few plushies she'd gotten for christmas as a child and taken to Mayfaire with her. But as the days, and weeks, and months waned on, Charlotte found herself aching for some lizard-like company in the dark hours of the night.

"Charlotte, you're ever so cute..." Ange's mission had gone off with flying colours. It had been so perfect, actually, that she'd arrived at the school hours earlier than expected. Even the traffic on the way back had been merciful. Ready to get a good night's rest, for once, Ange was making her way back to her room - Past the Princess', of course - when she heard a familiar voice say an even more familiar name. Backing up next to the door, Ange's mind drifted; Who was she talking to? There were plenty of people with the name 'Charlotte' at Mayfaire's: naturally, when she'd been born, the name Charlotte caught on with the upper-middle class quickly. But, at this hour, why would she even be awake, let alone talking to a classmate?

"Hmph. They don't call me cute on the Black Lizard Planet." What came next knitted Ange's brow, and piqued her interest. A parody of her own voice, or rather of 'Ange's' voice, made to sound much cuter than usual. Charlotte seemed to be hosting a mock conversation with her. Ange couldn't help but feel slightly envious. Exercising as much tact as she could in such a situation, she peered through the gap in the doorhinge.

"Oh, Charlotte!" What Ange could see through the gap, was Princess Charlotte cuddling indiscriminately with an instantly recognisable stuffed doll. A prim, wide-rimmed top hat, grey hair, a dull expression, and-- was that a gun? Charlotte's taste had always been a bit odd. Regardless, Ange was more shocked that she'd gone out of her way to have a doll made of her spy outfit rather than her schoolclothes or formal dress, than anything else. Couldn't that be considered an information leak?

"Princess, you're squeezing too tight!" Charlotte seemed oddly dedicated to her conversation with 'Ange', enough so that the real Ange thought it best to leave her alone, at least for tonight. She couldn't find it inside her heart to blame Charlotte for having her own version of her to cuddle. After all, Ange had been with her imitation Charlotte for almost eight years, now.

Stumbling back to her room, still in a slight daze, Ange's thoughts drifted to her own doll of her loved one. When she got back, she slid her suitcase out from under her bed, undid the lock, and brought her out. She held 'Charlotte' in her hands for a few precious seconds, pinned down by her adorable smile.

"Fufu." From across the room, Dorothy made herself know. Surely, by now, she should've been asleep. "I haven't seen her in a while."

Ange reacted poorly. Clutching the plush to her chest, she tried to hide under the covers with it. Dorothy was right, though. Ever since Ange had reunited with the real Charlotte, the doll hadn't come out of hiding for weeks. She calmed quickly, realising it was only Dorothy. "It'd be best if you'd never seen her in the first place." She deadpanned.

"What, and left you crying on the floor?" Dorothy kept chuckling. "You're hopeless." With that, Dorothy rolled over in bed, comfortable in her own victory.

Ange sighed, letting herself relax. She laid down in her own bed alongside Charlotte, staring deep into her jewelled eyes. She imagined, perhaps, that this was how Charlotte was right now. Staring into the eyes of her own personal 'Ange'. Thinking of her. Loving her.

Shaking the thoughts away and scolding herself for letting her thoughts become far too indulgent, Ange decided instead to fall asleep. She would deal with the doll tomorrow, in whichever way seemed fitting. Still, lodged in her heart, was a gem of envy. How could she be feeling jealous of a plush? Surely, this was the first time any of Control's ace spies had been laid low by cotton and wool.

Tomorrow, as Ange had promised herself, she came to meet her doppleganger. Well, the stuffed one, at least. It hardly looks anything like me. She told herself. I don't scowl that much, do I? Picking it up and trying to stare the thing down, she found herself completely dumbfounded by the extremely professional job that had been put into making it. Detailed, well-stuffed, and extremely fluffy. Ange was almost tempted to sneak in a hug.

"Haha!" Instead, she brought the doll to Dorothy. Being the team-leader, she ought to know what was best. "Looks like the Princess has taken a liking to you!" Poring over the thing, Dorothy couldn't wipe the goofy smile from her face. "Christ, it looks just like you!"

"No--!" Ange composed herself. "Hardly." She was beginning to regret showing it to Dorothy instead of just disposing of it. "That's not the problem. What if one of the Kingdom spies found this? Couldn't this be considered 'sensitive information'?" Unfortunately, every time she thought of destroying the thing, her heart ached. The image of it burning, or being torn up, or dumped in the Thames hurt Ange as if she was in the Doll's place. She couldn't bring herself to do that do something Charlotte loved-- No, showed affection for- so much.

"Hm, that's a good point, actually." Giving the doll a more sceptical look, this time, Dorothy took it's hat off, and then put it back on. Her expression suddenly soured. "Have you spoken to the Princess about this?"

"Of course not." Ange replied, taking care to control her tone. To her, at least, it made sense to hide all of this from Charlotte.

"Well, that might be best." Dorothy handed Ange back to Ange. "Well, perhaps you two can have a little tea-party together!" Her grin returned as she pictured the four gathered around a knee-height table, feeding each other cakes and pretending to fill up their woolly counterpart's teacups. "Oh, wouldn't that just be adorable? Youth is so precious, after all."

"That's rich coming from you." Ange couldn't resist the chance to harass her leader, especially after she conjured up that image. "But... Ok, I'll talk to her about it." Turning Ange over in her hands, she gave it a squeeze, as if she could find Charlotte's feelings for her inside the plushy she adored so much.

Obediently returning the doll to Charlotte's room, and making sure not to let anyone see for both of their sake, Ange slipped inside carefully. Fortunately, Charlotte wasn't in, and as she set her doll down where she'd found it, Ange breathed a sigh of relief that the whole ordeal had gone off relatively calmly, even if the worst of it wasn't over yet.

The lights came on.

"A-Ange?" Ange froze on the spot as Charlotte called out to her. "What're you doing...?" Her voice drained away as she spotted what was in Ange's hands. "....Aahhh!" And rose again, as she connected the dots.

"Princess!" Ange, swept up in the mood, couldn't find the words to calm her. "Please don't--" Not even knowing how to start her sentence, she began to back into a corner, perfectly willing to leap out the window to escape the situation.

Charlotte's features dropped. "Ange. I didn't want you to see that..." Her cheeks flushed with red, and she looked just as trapped as Ange. "I just..." Steeling herself, she began to move towards her. "I've been so lonely. When you're gone, it's like I'm all alone again."

"P-Princess..." Ange squirmed. She was being blamed by Charlotte, for taking her job - her role - too seriously. It was something she was used to, by now. "You know I have to--"

"Charlotte, you were gone for a whole week, last month!" The switch to Ange's real name told her everything she needed to know. "And even now, I haven't seen you in days." She was almost on top of Ange, her arms reaching out for her, shaking with anticipation.

"I'm... I'm sorry." Was all she could manage as Charlotte took a hold of her. There was a desperation in her voice, and in her face, that Ange recognised. One she was afraid of, but couldn't say no to. "It hurts me, too." She admitted, recalling her days in The Farm, alone. These days, Ange didn't feel that kind of pain anymore; she knew Charlotte was safe, or thriving, even. Her oath to become Queen was dangerous, and a risk Ange didn't think she had the energy left to support her through, but she kept going for Charlotte's sake. So that neither of them would have to feel that pain again.

Before either of them knew it, they had moved onto the bed and were lying there, still in each other's arms. "I want you to promise that you'll never leave me again, Charlotte." Ange felt Charlotte's arm tighten around her back as she nestled into the crook of her shoulder. She wasn't shaking, or crying, which she was more than thankful for. Her confidence returned as she reaffirmed her control of the situation.

"You know I can't say no to that, Princess." Having felt the tension dissipate, Ange welcomed Charlotte, closing her eyes as she felt the Princess rest onto her.

"I want you to say it." Charlotte's tone was light, but forceful. She had always had a knack for that, especially when it came to Ange.

"I promise to come back as many times as I leave." Ange whispered into Charlotte's ear. The Princess' body slowly became heavier, and after a few minutes of feeding her sweet nothings and sweeter everythings, Ange was sure she'd fallen asleep. She must have been tired. "I promise." She repeated, as she felt the same lethargy overcome her, now too afraid of waking her Princess to move. Instead, she let the feeling fill her mind, and gradually dozed off, as well.

 

When Charlotte woke, she found herself alone. She wasn't lonely, though. Her eyes scanned the room, and then fell upon the table Ange had left her doll on last evening. Next to it now lay another. Tatty and old, but still persisting, lay a wool doll of herself. It sat next to 'Ange', her head positioned so that her beaded eyes stared into theirs.

**Author's Note:**

> This one's a lot different from my usual fic. Some proper feedback would be really appreciated; I don't really know if this one hit the mark or not.  
> Thanks, of course to everyone who helped me with this one - you know who you are.


End file.
